


frozen heart

by katreine



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Killer Frost - Freeform, KillerFlash, SnowBarry - Freeform, snowbarry drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 13:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4349813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katreine/pseuds/katreine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FlashFrost drabble set in season two where Caitlin [finally] becomes Killer Frost, and Barry begs at a shot to get his Caitlin back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	frozen heart

**Author's Note:**

> I had to make this angsty Snowbarry drabble--it just begged to be written. Probably came from the sadness that overcame me when they confirmed Patty Spivot's character appearing in season two, plus Iris being part of Team Flash. Please don't get me wrong; I'm in love with Candice Patton, but I feel like there's going to be less Snowbarry with two canon love interests despite Kreisberg's insistence that Snowbarry shippers will still get Snowbarry moments.
> 
> I had to write this because I always feel unaccomplished when I refuse to put into writing a story that's been running around my head for too long, plus I think that the anticipation of waiting for season two fuelled my drive to write this piece.
> 
> I hope you appreciate it--please comment or review, as it's taken in great appreciation.

“Caitlin.”

Caitlin hears her name said by the voice she longs to hear the most—a voice that used to laugh with her and tease her with an air of lightness and ease that only comes to the both of them.

 _Longed_.

The voice—soft and velvety but strong enough to suggest a current of urgency—breaks her out of the trance she’s in, and she rapidly snaps back her head in place. Her blue eyes follow the trail of scarlet and skin-tight leather in one long line, and, finally, she looks into the eyes that haunt her the most at night, when she’s out to seek warmth from the faceless bodies that she leaves slain and lifeless. The pair of green eyes startle her, a frisson of electricity passing between their gazes, like the many times it happened before. What follows is the pain in her heart, sharp and fast. She fixes her gaze, steely and ice-cold, and braces herself for the wave of emotions that will rock her once again.

Barry Allen looks at her, his gaze the fire to her ice, and she stays still, the emotions in her running wild, her heart pumping blood faster than it did an hour before he came into her space—the only place she hides and becomes herself again.

It’s an inner turmoil that occurs in Caitlin as she fights the urge to step forward and wrap her arms around him—to feel, just for once, the warmth that Barry exudes and shares with everyone. Barry’s as still as she is—but she knows that he’s buzzing with energy, waiting to be released. Caitlin feels the cold wind breeze against her clavicles, something that she should get used to, but she’s not fully agreeable to losing her senses against cryogenesis.

“Caitlin,” Barry says once more, his voice more pleading, his eyes turning warmer, coaxing her. She’s unsure what Barry Allen wants her to do, but if she stares and stays for longer, she’s going to give in.

Something she doesn’t want to do.

Caitlin fights with herself, but the stronger, more tenacious side of her wins, and so she does what she has to in order to fight the urge to run into Barry’s arms and lose herself in him.

Caitlin opens her mouth to help her forget, and she succeeds in drawing blood from both of them.

“Mister Allen,” Caitlin sneers, and Barry’s eyes flash in recognition—and something in her stomach twists. “I wasn’t aware that you were seeking my company. What could have propelled you to bring yourself to my lair?” The lair’s only part of the show she’s putting on—it’s the sole place where she feels she can retrieve a part of herself, a reminder that not all is lost.

That she can come back.

But such thoughts do nothing but make one hope, make one wish for the optimism that springs eternal, and Caitlin’s been involved in too much darkness to long for that.

“Caitlin, please.” Barry pleads again, and his words are all too familiar—words she heard in a teasing tone, in a begging tone, in an admonishing tone, and in a loving tone. It startles her—how clearly she remembers the ways Barry serenaded her with words and brought her to life again, and she cages a part of her heart away, remembering to keep it sealed shut.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who you’re seeking to beg, Mister Allen. I am Killer Frost.” The cadence of her tone brings Caitlin confidence, and it flows through her veins like ambrosia, easy and comforting. But the chill in her voice doesn’t deter Barry—instead, it fuels him, and he takes three confident steps forward to her before Caitlin widens her eyes, intending to scare him off. He stops in his tracks, and Caitlin turns her wrists upward, intending to shoot icicles out of her hands to keep Barry away.

“Caitlin, this isn’t you. Come back to us, to me. Please.”

Caitlin stares at him, magnanimous in his scarlet suit, his mask taken off, his eyes naked and real for her to see. It’s solely for her sake as she tells herself she can’t stand the thought of Barry Allen coming closer to her, but what she refuses to admit is that she knows she’ll seek the comfort of him once he leaves, and seeing him walk away from her is a sight that she’s tortured herself over and over with.

It’s not enough that she only had Barry for a few months before he started drifting off, the usual times he spent with her sacrificed to laugh with someone else and sip lattès with. The pain surges through Caitlin as she recalls the only times she has Barry’s attention somewhat—those missions he sends himself to, with Caitlin torn up on the other end of the mic, trying not to cry or lose her mind over the possibility that Barry might be hurt, or that Barry may never come back to her again, alive.

It hurts, more than anything else—more than the sudden explosion of the sensors in the cryogenic particle detectors that Cisco fashioned from the particle accelerator that hit her and perpetually turned her into a heat-seeking soulless demon—the thought that Barry Allen may not be able to run and pick her up at dizzying speeds, that he may no longer smile at her in that boyish way of his, that he may no longer bring her coffee at nine-in-the-morning, that he may no longer be late, that he may no longer share a beer with Cisco and Joe, that he may no longer sit with her and stare at her too longingly.

That he may never be alive.

Caitlin schools her features, careful not to let anything slip from her expression, and the expertise she handles her emotions is something to be applauded for. Barry doesn’t notice the storm that’s brewing inside her, or that the fact that losing him permanently is something she can never forgive herself for.

So she does what she has to do, to drive away the man who was never meant for her to keep, but was always meant for her to love.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she grits out her teeth, and shoots a line of ice to keep him away.

“Caitlin, please,” his tone is more desperate, his arms moving forward, and Caitlin chokes on her breath.

“No.”

“Caitlin, please, let me be sorry. Let me take care of you and take you away from this place—“ Barry gestures to the high-ceilinged cave, “Let me show you what we’ll be like together.” Caitlin stays perfectly still, her organs encased in ice, and Barry takes the chance to try to take her back. “Let me love you.” And Caitlin snaps. A tear falls perfectly from her eyes, staining her white cheeks, and all Caitlin wants is to let them fall to the ground, like silent rain. But she raises her chin a little higher, and shakes her head defiantly.

“No.”

“Caitlin, please. I love you—“ he starts, and even as Caitlin’s heart cinches and screams, she freezes Barry in place with her gaze. She tries to speak as strongly as she can, but her words come out in broken phrases, similar to how she feels.

“No. You don’t love me—you never loved me,” Caitlin relents, all the memories of Iris and Barry together rushing to her, piecing together like a picture-perfect puzzle. “You loved her too much to love me. My love was never enough,” she whispers, and Barry reaches out to her, one limb at a time, slow but sure, and Caitlin moves rapidly away. “You kept me out. You loved her too much to let me love you.”

“Caitlin—“

“And now, look at me, a frozen mess.” She laughs sardonically, and even as her heart tears, she doesn’t let it stop her. “Now it’s time for you to pay the price.” _Run, Barry._ “Cait, listen to me.” The pet name he solely calls her shocks her, and gritting her teeth, she unfurls her fists.

“It’s time to get frozen, The Flash. You can’t run away.”

And Killer Frost becomes her again, as she shoots an icy spear straight into the centre of Barry’s heart.


End file.
